


Impromptu Visit

by Venticelli



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Freak Show
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Gift Giving, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Twisty is an awkward and mildly sexually frustrated potato, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venticelli/pseuds/Venticelli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twisty has made friends with one of the freak show's performers, a fire dancer named Lydia who was the first person in a long time to treat him with any real kindness. To show his appreciation he makes her a gift, but late night deliveries have a habit of taking strange turns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impromptu Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Porn for Twisty that isn't Twandy??? Yes, yes it is. Anyway, the girl in this is a friend's OC from tumblr, and she and Twisty are a hell of a duo. Which is putting it mildly when you think about what goes on in this fic...

He’d promised that he would visit her, and the clown was nothing if not a man of his word. Besides, he had no reason or desire not to see her. True, she was with that abomination of a Freak Show, but Lydia was no freak. She was sweet and kind and pretty. Not cruel or ugly like the freaks...or like himself.

Twisty closed his eyes and growled. That was all the more reason to repay her kindness for he knew he hardly deserved it. If he even deserved it at all.

Since they’d last seen each other he had gone scavenging for parts and had put together a little figurine of a lady dancing. It had been a while since he had atrempted to make anything, but few times in his life had he put such focus into a project. The shapes were rough, but that only added to thw feeling of motion. Well, that's what the clown had decided to tell himself anyway. In the figure’s hands were flames of glass from broken bottles he’d found. Discarded beer bottles and colored stage lights. The clown was quite eager to show her the gift that he’d made, but by the time he was happy enough with it the sun had already gone down.

Too late for a proper visit, but maybe he could just drop it off at her door to find in the morning. That might work out better for everyone as he really didn't like venturing into the camp when the others were about. Their forms reminding him of pain he no longer wished to revisit.

He had hoped for it to be a quick thing. Drop it off and go, butas he approached her caravan, it wasn’t just the stillness of the night and the crickets that he could hear. For half a second he was worried having not expected to hear anything from her home, but soon he realized that he recognized the sound. Those gasps were not the sound of distress, but they did come from a strain of another sort. His face pinked under a thick layer of paint, wondering if Lydia knew just how very loud she was being. Should he tell her to try being quieter so as not to draw unwanted evening attention, or would that just make him look like someone giving unwanted evening attention? The clown looked around wondering if perhaps this was a set up of some kind, but there was no one to be seen. He was still nervous about this whole adventure, but his curiosity had been peaked.

Surely there wasn’t any harm in taking a quick look. You know, just to see if he was right in his assumptions.

Placing his gift upon the ground he walked over to one of the windows, his height making this endeavor that much easier. As he looked inside he was greeted with quite a sight, his eyes widening in interest. Before him was Lydia on her bed, her shirt bunched up by her shoulders as she squeezed and pinched her breasts. Ever curious, the clown’s eyes wandered further to see her other hand between her legs, delicate fingers teasing and rubbing as she let out the breathy moans of pleasure that had first intrigued him.

And oh, this felt so very  _wrong_ , but he couldn’t look away. His stomach felt tied in knots, his brain on fire with something that felt more like a wanting sensation than curiosity. But Lydia was his friend. His very, very, pretty friend…

Her moans got louder and her movements more erratic as she squirmed beneath her hands, eyes closed as who knows what fantasies played in her mind. Just watching it was enough to make the clown start to feel a dull and pleasant throbbing between his legs. The realization of what it was made him feel ashamed as he looked down at his pants and tenting effect that was occurring.

Oh this wasn’t good…this wasn’t good at all.

But just staring at it wasn’t going to make it go away was it? Most of his discomfort was from embarrassment at spying on her like this, but the throbbing was persistent and vaguely enjoyable and was demanding all of his attention. Tentatively he reached his hand down to stroke himself through the material of his costume, the smooth and cool texture feeling pleasant against sensitive skin. He closed his eyes, his breathing hitched slightly as he listened to the sound of Lydia on the other side of the caravan wall. He was just on the edge of completely blissed out when there was a sudden silence that was broken just as suddenly.

“Sammy?”

The clown’s eyes snapped open to see his friend staring at him through the window, he body still sprawled ought on the bed. His heart began to pound, but this time it was from embarrassment as opposed to excitement. He’d been caught! That was the very thing he had feared would happen, and he was so surprised and mortified that he couldn’t move, standing there frozen in hopes that maybe doing so would make it so she couldn’t see him.

It was a tactic that proved ineffective as he watched her get up and walk over to “his window”. He dropped his hand to the side and looked away, ready for the screaming at him that he was sure was about to ensue. He couldn’t say he blamed her. Everything about this was just so wrong, and he deserved every bit of punishment for it that he received.

However, the first thing he heard was the door opening and soft footsteps. Cautiously, he looked over, not wanting to turn around for fear of giving away his shame. The sight that greeted him was the fire dancer in a light robe, the gift he’d made for her in her hands. He’d almost forgotten about it with the whole incident.

“You made this for me?” The clown nodded slowly, eyes going between looking at her and the ground. “Well…why don’t you come inside so I can show you my appreciation?” He turned then, her response the most surprising thing of the evening. She…wasn’t completely furious? Well, he wasn’t about to debate it. “Seems you’ve already been enjoying yourself,” she added with no small amount of teasing. “Come on…might as well finish what you started.” She gave him a playful wink and beckoned him inside. He thought for a moment before following after her. There was no sense in wasting the invitation.


End file.
